


Being Human

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Not Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Written for: @amanda-teaches #CLUEspnPrompt: A Ghost in a Asylum with a Speargun





	Being Human

“A speargun,” Dean states, nodding, lips pursed as he swirls his whiskey in the cheap motel-issued cup. “Cas, are you sure you know what a speargun is?”

“Yes, Dean, I am very aware of what a speargun is.” Cas is tired as a celestial being can be. “And what I saw in the ghosts… _paws_ was in fact a speargun.”

“Paws,” Dean echoes – again. Unmoving, seemingly uncaring or engaged in the least, except for sipping his whiskey.

Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. “If you’re going to just keep cherry-picking words that come out of my mouth to repeat, we won’t get anywhere with this.”

“Well,” Dean finally moves, swiping his booted feet from atop the rickety table, careful not to slosh his whiskey from its plastic vessel. “Where exactly is it you wanna go with this, Cas?” He asks, standing to his full height and rolling his shoulders then cracking his neck.

“Ghosts are kind of are _your thing_, Dean,” Castiel answers impatiently, watching Dean cross the room.

“Ok, yeah, it’s a ghost,” Dean shrugs. “But it’s contained, right? In an abandoned asylum.” He gestures casually.

“I seem to recall a time you went directly into a haunted asylum for the specific reason that _it was haunted_-”

Dean holds up a hand in lazy, half-hearted surrender or placation, Castiel isn’t sure which.

“Look,” Dean says. “I get that you’re bored, man, but I’m still beat up from our legit case today, and I kinda wanna just, ya know, get drunk, maybe get laid, and get some sleep.”

Castiel stares at his friend, bis brother in arms, the symbol of humanity… and all the fight drains from him. He’s seen Dean endure Hell itself, endure being marked as the symbol of murder, endure death and subsequent demon-ness; he’s seen Dean pushed to the brink and yet come back – not unchanged, but still human, still Dean.

Castiel is baffled by Dean’s apparent exhaustion from a simple salt and burn and why they can’t just go do another.

But because he’s seen Dean push his own limits more times than any human, demon, angel, or Chuck himself can probably count, Castiel decides to let it rest.

“I mean, it’s not like the thing’s hurtin’ anybody, right?” Dean turns to face Castiel with two plastic cups full of whiskey and swaggers toward him with a smirk. “Can’t wait one more night?”

The angel sighs and tries not to smile too wide as he shakes his head. Then he nods affirmatively as he accepts the proffered whiskey from Dean. “It can wait one more night,” he answers.

“Great,” Dean says as he takes a seat once again and Castiel mirrors his actions.

“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Sammy thought he was Batman and jumped off a roof and I had to take him to the emergency room on my handlebars?” Dean asks, already laughing.

“But Batman can’t fly,” Castiel answers, and Dean laughs harder.

“I know! The best part about the whole thing…”

As Dean continues his telling of the story which Castiel recalls from memories he was given of the Winchesters, he relaxes back into the chair and revels in the lightness of Dean’s voice and mood.

He agrees with himself once again that not going to the asylum tonight was a good idea.


End file.
